The difference in strength
by cerulean azure
Summary: She doesn't want to stand in the shadow of her team or an old love anymore. He knows she isn't supposed to count in his world of wrath and twisted logic. Their paths crossing was never a fairytale.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

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><p><strong>Different<strong>_**.**_

Sometimes, just _sometimes_, she watches the sky.

When she comes back from her missions or finishes her shifts at the hospital, she lies on the same back of grass _(that they so long ago lay together) _and gazes up at the boundless space. Most of the time, she's tired to the bone. Her white coat stained with the injuries of the suffering, shoulders weighed down with worry and duty.

She can't put it in exact words and the view is never quite alike, but something about the serene sight loosens the knot in her. Some days, as she admires azure skies with cotton wisps, she can't help thinking (_even though she tries not to) _that they look like a certain teammate's eyes: bright, all cooling warmth and easy acceptance.

Then thoughts inevitably lead to _him, _dark onyx and the velvet dark of the night sky. How the stars looked against the navy background (_the same color highlighted in his hair when the light hit it just right_) and the even breathing of her teammates (_when it was so important to her because it was back when she actually believed that they could be together forever_), the rapid pulse of her heartbeat when she _begged, when_ she laid bare her feelings and _he_ still left, with nothing but a _thank you _still haunting her in the wind when she wakes up to the sharp sting of rejection and reality.

That night had been cold and chilling. Even with the warmth of the day, she involuntarily shivers on days she remembers, and tries to block it all out. Because he's _gone _and despite everything they've done she doubts that he will ever be back willingly. For when she had last looked into those crimson eyes, she had saw— she saw something the depths of which she didn't think she might ever be able to fully comprehend.

The anger, wrath, impatience, and hunger that raged on, but most of all, the _hatred_. It seemed to swirl, extend to every fiber of his body and consume him whole and still reach out for _more_— she had realized then he was no longer the boy she knew before.

Perhaps that's when it suddenly dawned on her, an epiphany _(long in the making)_ that made all the difference.

He was no longer the same person. He had chosen his path, and she would too.

And so despite all her memories, all her emotions and smiles and promises; she will defend everything precious to her against the destruction left in his wake, against anybody with the intention to harm. Because just as he has changed from the boy he once was, she is different too.

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><p><strong>Strength.<strong>

Each time before she sets off, when she slides cool leather upon her hands and attach the worn maroon forehead protector, _(like some sort of ritual to remind herself)_ she hardens her heart and her eyes glint with the steel light of frozen emeralds. So even when cerise liquid splatters from her victims, when her senbons strike with unerring _(deadly)_ accuracy, when her hands are so stained by the blood of her enemies despite how many lives she saves, she never stops.

She builds herself to such momentum that she doesn't need to feel, because it only _hurts_ and as long as she's doing something, be it killing or saving (_the word killer haunts her sleep_) she has some sort of balance, fragile equilibrium though it may be.

So when he arrives in the room on a stretcher, dripping crimson and inky hair splayed against the white canvas, all the air seems to escape from her lungs at once.

But then there is no time to think, no time to feel, just the cold steel of the table, harsh light that shines on the operating table, and she goes through the motions mechanically like she has done so many times before. Only this time, its not the same, words cannot express how much this has affected her, only the sudden rip in her chest anew, and as she leaves the room, only to be faced with an anxious blonde, she can only muster a weary smile. A smile that doesn't truly reach her eyes.

"_His injuries are… severe, but he'll make a recovery given time"_ Even as she says this to her bright-eyed teammate, she mentally amends it to apply only physically.

" _Yes I knew it! __He's back, believe it!"_

And when he breaks out into cheers and whoops on how team seven was destined to be together, and nothing, not even betrayal could break it; doubt like a waiting snake still curls in her heart.

She knows without words, from the way his fist still clenches around his kunai even unconscious, how he twitches from touch at first until they raise the level of anesthesia, that the boy – no, she supposes he is a man now – is still broken and she wonders if his past still haunts him.

The answer is clear in his eyes when he wakes. She is startled inwardly when his eyes snap open as she leans to change his bandage. But then, she feels that it would be so like him to wake up at the slightest notion of danger. Ebony drills into emerald for a few short seconds, before she looks away and reaches for the stained strips of cloth. She feels the pull of his gaze like a black hole, that is in danger of drowning herself in the intensity and nuance of his eyes.

He says nothing throughout her ministrations, and she snuffs out all pain in her heart, trying to finish as efficiently as possible. She just wants to finish and run home; to curl into a ball and_ forget_ about him because she knows there's no use prodding at old scars.

Instead, she can feel his displeasure emanating as he examines the chakra restraints and chains upon his wrist and ankles. When she finally finishes and moves to check his IV drip –all the while averting her gaze- he finally speaks his first words to her in four years _(silently she hates herself for even keeping track)_

"_Release me." _Cold baritone enunciates the syllables perfectly.

And it is no surprise that he demands for the restraints to be removed. Suddenly she fights the urge to laugh at the very truth of those words. This man _chose_ to be chained by his need for vengeance, chasing for release. She can't release him because she owes this man nothing, and the only one who could set him free was himself.

All of a sudden she remembers why she has chosen this path, and how much theirs had diverged. He had taken revenge over everything else offered to him freely, and she was loath to stand in his way. After all, they had different fights now. This thought gives her strength, and all her previous indecision and doubt freezes.

She meets his burning stare with harsh ice running in her veins, and the same way she has grown used to, hers eyes are hard as she tells him quietly that it is not her decision, and he that he should take it to the Hokage. (the underlying words are clear though: _its not my problem_) Changing the drip, she strides out of the room, but not before she sees a flash of disbelief before anger shutters his eyes again.

Her lips curls grimly into a smile as she reports to the Fifth, and when amber eyes meet hers in a mix of concern and question, they seem to be satisfied by the determination in hers.

That day when she reaches home, it is not to curl into a ball and cry as she wanted so much earlier, but she sharpens her weapons, and when the next messenger comes, she is ready and unfurls the scroll.

She doesn't want to stand in the shadow of her team or of an old love. For time has passed, and she can hold her own. There would still be scars on her heart, and she did not know what tomorrow would bring, but there was a difference in strength now.

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><p><strong><span>Author's note<span>**:

Sorry for the long dry spell! I swear life has been so crazy recently I couldn't even think of writing. I plan on writing the first chapter after making sure the flow of the prologue wasn't so disjointed (hence this update) and researching properly into the exact details. :x First time writing ff, so hope all goes well!

Thank you for the reviews: Niaya Tsuki, Dragonheartedxx, Pricililica, and Teenage Crisis. They are appreciated and another reason to write more :)


	2. Chapter 1

**_Truths. _**

When Sakura next sees Sasuke, he is lying asleep in a hospital bed and she marvels at how at peace he looks in slumber. She finds it ironic that it was the same place where she had once adoring fed him apples and cooed over him.

A million other things run through her head, but the most predominant one is that she doesn't want to be weak again.

She still loves him, that's true. Its apparent in the way her heartbeat picks up when her eyes connect with hers, when something inside still hurts when he brushes her off or treats her as nothing, and the way she still cares about his safety and how he perceives her.

Wounds heal with time, but scars never fade. She still remembers being knocked out and left on the bench. His hand a vise grip around her throat as she gasps what she believes are her last breathes. Collapsing from a fourteen-hour shift at the hospital and waking up to find that her best friend, her bright eyed sun left her behind to fulfill his promise.

Later, she finds out that all the injuries she had healed the day Sasuke arrived unconscious and close to death was from that final confrontation. Where somehow Naruto, with his love for ramen, orange had convinced Sasuke to join with him against Madara. Where they had actually beyond all belief won by taking advantage of the madman's crippling arrogance. That Sasuke had not actually agreed to come back, the decision had been taken out of his hands when he had collapsed in the middle of the battlefield, eyes glassy and wounds deadly.

And when she finally learns about the backstory to Itachi, the council, and Madara, she doesn't know how to react to the blonde teammate looking at her with imploring eyes. Tell him how it felt to be left behind and not told the truth like she was something of a lower level? Understand Sasuke more and his blind vendetta turning him into a pawn of a manipulative psychopath?

Finally, she just hugged her optimistic teammate and some of her hostility towards Sasuke dissolved and was swept away with the winds.

So when his eyes snap open at her approaching footsteps, she merely smiles politely.

"Uchiha san, I was ordered by the Hokage to check your wounds."

He looks at her intently and scowls before switching off his sharigan. As she focuses on the bandages on his torso she doesn't expect to him to talk. To her surprise, he does.

"Last week. What was that?"

She shrugs as she continues unwrapping the bandages.

"I was merely following my orders as a shinobi. Tsunade sama would hardly be pleased if I took the chakra restraints off an S-class ninja whose loyalty is unknown. "

Silence for a moment. She feels his gaze on her as she looks at his half healed gash.

"You called me Uchiha-san."

She chooses to ignore him as she places a hand on the injury and channels her chakra to regenerate the cells. His muscles tense under her touch, and she tells herself the quickening of her heartbeat and the tingling in the hand is due to chakra usage. A green glow surrounds her fingertips and the tear in skin rapidly closes. She sends tendrils throughout his body just for a quick check that the other parts were healing properly.

"There. It'll leave a scar but it shouldn't trouble you. Uchiha San." She tacks the formal suffix as if it is an afterthought, but judging from the way Sasuke's eyes narrow, he is displeased by it. When she moves away to change his drip, he hand shoots out to clamp around her wrist. She flinches instantly. From the contact, from what he represented, for what she used to be and his hold loosens.

"Don't. Call. Me. That." He utters the words through clenched teeth.

"Why not? I don't know you, not really." The words escape from her mouth before she realizes what she's saying and by the time she does, its too late. His gaze hardens and his hand drops away from her wrist. As if a few rolling stones started an avalanche, her words flow out in a torrent she can't stopper. "Tell me one thing then _Sasuke. _Is your revenge done? Your brother is dead. Danzo is dead. Madara is dead."

"No."

"What more can you want!"

"The elders. They started the plan with Danzo. They tried to cover it up. They deserve to die." He was back. The burning avenger, that left destruction in his wake.

There was a sickening crack as flesh met flesh, and Sasuke looked up in mutinous disbelief, hand on his red check and bloodied lip.

"Do you ever think of anything else? You say you want revenge and have gone after it time and time after time. Do you think it would bring you peace? What do you have left after they die? No village, no family. Just blood on your hands. Is this what Itachi wanted?"

"Don't you dare think you knew what Itachi wanted!" He was furious now, snarling and face pale with rage.

"Oh don't I? I may not have known your brother Sasuke, but he loved you. He couldn't kill you. He hid the truth from your because he wanted you to grow strong and redeem the Uchiha name. He guarded you against Orochimaru, Madara, and gave up his life. He could have easily told the truth about the elders. He could have left Akatsuki. But he didn't and he was the reason why we had information about Akatsuki at all. He was our informant in Akatsuki! Its all in the restricted files. Even when he _left _Konoha he never stopped protecting it! And you want to destroy everything he worked for, let his sacrifice be in vain? I love you Sasuke, but sometimes you -

"I've heard enough of your declarations of love. Get out. " Sasuke cut in icily, voice quivering with fury. Sakura froze.

"GET OUT!"

Sakura turned on her heel and fled.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Sorry this took more then a week, but believe me when I say I just couldn't see how it would go. In the end, I opened up a blank document and told myself to write whatever came to mind instead following a strict plot. I've also adjusted and edited the prologue, so I hope it all flows better now.


	3. Chapter 2

Time passes in drips and floods. Her windows are shuttered, door locked. Sakura drifts in and out of consciousness, into dreams and then out into reality that seems more like a nightmare. Distantly she's aware that she's overreacting. That at some point in time she would have yelled at herself into getting her act together and continued on.

The thing was: She was tired of continuing on. Tired of standing up after she was left in the dust. Tired of hiding her pain. A while. She promised herself that just once, just once she would allow herself some respite. Staring at her ceiling, she looks at the plastic glow-in-the dark stars she had put a long summer day ago. Stretching her hand out above her, she flexes her fingers. Closes them over the visual of the star. Chasing stars.

The thumping on her door breaks her reverie. Sakura flips over and starts reciting the periodic table in her head. Hydrogen. Helium. Lithium. They'll go away. They always do. Beryllium.

The creak of the door. Footsteps. She waits. A loud crash. The corner of her mouth twitches. Then as abruptly as it comes, the sharp amusement vanishes. Naruto knows the traps so well he would subconsciously avoid them. Who would?

She sits up and whirls around just in time to see the bedroom door slammed open.

Silence. A furious glare, blood trickling down his eye, there stands her ex-teammate.

"What?" He is so angry on the surface, but she knows better.

She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Right now, she feels so empty inside, unsure of how much more salty liquid she can stand to express. Instead, she breaks out into laughter. A brilliant cacophony of sensations feels up something inside her. Something she can't remember the last time she indulged in. The sight of the famous S-class missing nin, defeated and grumpy over her basic traps...

Between her breathless huffs, his eyes softens.

"Sakura."

Those words have more effect then any other have on her. The world could have tilted on its very axis and she wouldn't have noticed. This was _him_. He didn't apologize. He simply _didn't. _

"Naruto made you come."

A lift of an eyebrow. That was tantamount to agreement right there. The familiar crease is back on his forehead and of course she notices those onyx eyes narrow. Then of a sudden, he is right in front of her. Some of her breathe leaves her lungs, and she tells herself it's at the startling speed.

"What are you trying to do?" The words come out barely steady, her breath hitching on the last word.

"Hn."

Another bubble of laughter made its way to her chest despite the gravity of the situation. He would say that, of course he would. Any other time, she might have entertained that. Be it as an adoring friend, as a mature adult… accepting Sasuke as who he was. This was different. She was done with being the one trying to reach him. It went both ways.

"You have to say what you mean, you know?" The bitterness she feels now edges into her voice. "I'm not a mind reader."

He stands there, unmoving, face frozen. A strange light flickers into his eyes, but it disappears just as fast as it comes.

And so they stand there, one in simple dark blue pants and shirt, the other clad in oversized flannel pajamas. Sakura had never felt more vulnerable and yet dangerously safe. His indigo dark eyes are intent and obscure at the same time. The wisps of color in a dark crystal ball. Sakura wants to give an ironic laugh when she is reminded of fortune telling and how bad she has always been at reading him.

"Sakura." She marvels at the fact that he is actually the first one to speak. For once, she does not want to be the one talking. Silence is her answer and the armor she clutches to desperately. They are at a standstill.

Then the door crashes open.


End file.
